Spoke to Lie
by The Fangirling Bookworm
Summary: Blaise Zabini is cold and heartless. He knows a fellow "mudblood" hater, whom he falls in love with. Problem #1: he lies, a lot. Problem #2: she does not trust him Problem #3: they aren't in the same year Note: I do not own Harry Potter


_**Spoke to Lie**_: _Chapter I_

_November 1996_

"Bloody hell, Zabini," a Ravenclaw girl exclaimed as he crashed into her. "Watch where you're going next time!"

"Why would I when you could just simply walk straight," the Slytherin chaser retorted with a glare to her smaller frame.

Brown eyes glared at one another, dark skin echoed pale like the night around the moon, pureblood against pureblood, veins boiling hot. Her light hair was curled, he noticed, rather than the usual straightness he learned to like so very much. His eyes were covered with a n air of insomnia over the purple bags hanging around them, she took note. His cracked lips showed neither a frown nor a smile as her pink glossed ones scowled. White teeth hidden behind each mouth.

"Why the sudden need to try, Alexandrus?" Zabini questioned, leaning against the nearest pillar as her scowl deepened knowing he would not leave. Her bag and its contents were scattered across the floor, long forgotten in the back of their minds.

"Try what, Zabini?" Her teeth ground against each other, small hands forming fists clenching and relaxing only to restart the process.

"To look the way you are now. To look good. I mean, no one does notice you anymore. Poor little miss Alexandrus, who sits in the back of every class away from the taunting looks of Slytherin and hatred from your own house," he smirked. A habit she has wanted to punch right off his face. "You would not have a rea – ah!"

The smirk left as he deduced the obvious solution. When he remained silent, she stomped her foot annoyed, the boot clicking against the marble flooring and echoing to the cold outdoors from the hallways.

"What?" she questioned irritated.

Zabini just looked up the younger girl, causing her to look out the hallway into the beautiful winter snow forming. His smirk reappeared, though his eyes were. . . . .

"Someone asked you to Hogsmeade."

"So? Why is this of importance to you? I remember telling you specifically not to pretend to care or get involved with my life, Zabini."

He crossed over to her, holding her face in his dark hand. Not rough, as she thought he would, but gentle and soft like a duvet. She wished he would hurt her instead of showing _this_ side, it was too painful.

"I _do_ care, Yasmin," he whispered against her cheek. His lips hovered over hers as he contemplated whether to kiss her or not. However, she turned away before his decision was made.

"No, you never have. I know now," she gripped the blue jumper tighter in an attempt to escape the chilling air.

Zabini held out his jacket, "Take it."

"No."

"Alexandrus, you are _not_ to freeze in my presence."

"The answer is still no, Zabini. If you have no desire to watch my lips purple, I suggest you leave."

"Why do you not leave?"

"I am meeting someone here, whether you like it or not."

His jaw clenched.

"Who?" his voice darkened.

"Cut the act, Blaise. We both know you are unfeeling. So just leave me alone. Stay out of my life. Do you get the hint?"

"I got the hint, Yasmin, I just choose to ignore it," he lackadaisically spun his wand in his hand, not bothering to even glance her direction.

Yasmin groaned, "Go away."

"No," he smirked. "I want to see who is taking you to Hogsmeade."

She ran a pale hand through her light brown hair, "Fine. Whatever. But then you leave."

"Fine."

"I mean it, Zabini."

"And I do not care, _Yasmin_."

Then, Zabini saw who exactly was walking down the hallway. _McLaggen_.

"No," he said shortly. His wand almost fell as he froze frigid.

"You have no say in what I do. You've lost that right," she glared, snaking her arm through McLaggen's.

"Ready to go, love? I think we should go to Three Broomsticks," McLaggen asked with an ignorant smile.

"Sure, Cormac. Later, Zabini."

Blasie saw her toss the beautiful brown hair she owned and leave with McLaggen. He shoved his hands in his pockets angrily and turned toward the dungeon areas leading to Slytherin common room.

"_Pureblood_," he muttered to the annoying portrait, which did not open the door fast enough.

The green lights shined from the lake, allowing a green tinge to enter. The black and dark green leather sofas were surrounded by the skulls and dark wood cupboards. The grand atmosphere was unaffective to him; however, the cold air only deepened his sour mood. His glare fell on the noticeboard to the password change starting next week.

He walked down the steps to the green couch, where he sat, his back facing the stairs and body buring from both the intense flames in the fireplace and his harsh fury. No one dared approach im for the fear of death if they stared in his eyes. With his back straight and eyes lost within his mind, rather than the book he picked up so people would stop assuming something bothered him, Zabini thought of way to _personally _see to it that McLaggen gets the _best_ form of treatment from him.


End file.
